In the cold grey hours before dawn, a hooded figure rode through the streets of Gondor with astonishing speed.  Reaching the main gate of the palace, the guards let the man inside without question, for he was greatly revered.  One guard did go in before the newcomer, only so that he could be properly announced to King Aragorn.

Aragorn was inside Legolas' room.  He was in a chair by the foot of the elf's bed and Thranduil was near his son's head.  The elven king was awake and lost to his thoughts.  Aragorn was in a light sleep, the travel weariness finally catching up with him.  Outside the door, Gimli stood guard, whilst Arwen sat nearby, conversing with him in light whispers.

Wegrit, the guard from the palace gate, led the hooded figure down the hallways until he reached Legolas' room.  Gimli bowed low in dwarf-fashion when his eyes caught sight of the newcomer. 

"Gandalf!" he cried in wonder and renewed hope.

Gandalf the White smiled at the dwarf.  "Gimli, Arwen, " he said, but immediately followed this with a question.  "Is Aragorn inside?"

"Aye, he's inside."

"I must see him immediately."

"I will get him for you," Arwen offered and slipped quietly inside of the room. 

A few moments later, she emerged with Thranduil and Aragorn, and their hearts were lightened to see the wizard.

"Gandalf, you must help us," Thranduil said, unable to restrain the urgency he felt in his heart.

"Help?  What's wrong," asked Gandalf, his voice full of concern.

"It's Legolas.  He's been poisoned," Gimli responded, "and gravely wounded."

"Poisoned?  Wounded?" the wizard's eyes were wide.  "He is inside?"

Aragon nodded. 

"Good.  I will need to see him immediately, but alone.  Take rest in one of the rooms, for it may be awhile before I come out, depending on his condition."

All followed the wizard's orders, but hope flooded their hearts, for their unspoken wish to have Gandalf in Gondor had mysteriously come to be reality.  In the next room, they all took some rest, for the room was large and spacious, with enough room for them all to sit and rest in body and mind.  Even Thranduil took rest, as he felt a great pressure lifted from him.  The one who could heal his son had come.

Dawn broke cool and overcast.  The sun threw its' bright rays through the heavy grey clouds that promised to bring an afternoon rain.  Dawn passed into morning, and those resting in the second room awoke out of their untroubled sleep.  But they did not venture far from the room, going only out to the hallway and back inside once more.  Still, Gandalf had not emerged from Legolas' room.

No one spoke much.  It seemed as if they dared to speak, they might break some delicate spell that hung above them.  But this did not stop their minds from wondering what was going on in the next room.  And Gimli, possessing the least patience of those gathered, fidgeted now and again, as every possible scenario passed through his mind.  After all, this wasn't just anyone that was hurt; it was his best friend, and not knowing what was going on was torturous to him.

Surprisingly, although he took to pacing the hallways once or twice, Thranduil was somewhat calmer in appearance than Gimli, though inwardly, he was the most anxious of them all.  Arwen sat with comforting arms about Aragorn, and the king held her close.

In the other room, Gandalf strove valiantly to draw the poison from the motionless, ashen figure before him.  But the poison was strong and already had quiet a hold on the elf, and it was reluctant to come forth.  It was a living poison, the likes of which Gandalf had heard rumor of Sauron creating in his stronghold in Mordor before the One Ring had been destroyed.  And as a living poison, it actually fought against Gandalf's efforts to withdraw it from the host body, for it clung to all that it came in contact with.  Luckily, it had not yet had the time to thin the elf's veins in order to filter out into the rest of the organs and body tissues, but it did have a firm hold on him all the same, and Gandalf was put to the test.

The poison would not come forth.  Gandalf was tiring.  But he would not give up so easily, and he counteracted the poison with spells of his own.  The idea would be to poison the poison; to kill the poison and allow Legolas' body to cleanse itself.  It would be risky, for the elf had lost much blood to his torture wounds and he was weak from his astonishing battle with an almost never before seen poison.  But Gandalf had no other choice.  He would have to risk the maneuver or Legolas would die before the sun set that night.  Rumaging through a small bag that he'd carried with him, Gandalf brought forth a wineskin.  From it, he gave to Legolas a sip of miruvor for strength and then cast his spell. 

Suddenly, Legolas went into shocked spasms and then his heart stopped beating.

Gandalf flung the door open and called for the help he would need.  "Aragorn!"